


Temperature Extremes

by Torchedearth



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, College Roommates, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sex Games, Sexual exploration, Superpower Sex, Switching, more tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 07:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13676925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchedearth/pseuds/Torchedearth
Summary: Best friends with occasional benefits Bobby Drake and Johnny Storm are used to being called polar opposites of each other. As the Iceman and the Human Torch, it only seems natural to try and frame their relationship as one of opposites attract. Truth is though, they have more in common than not, and right at the top of that list is a healthy (or maybe not so much) appetite for competition. So when a conversation between roommates unveils a mutual interest in exploring BDSM, it's only inevitable that exploration take the form of a competition. May the best man win, they say - even as they quickly realize neither has any clue what winning in this case actually looks like.





	Temperature Extremes

**Author's Note:**

> Comic book continuity these days is best summed up as "who cares, we do what we want", so I'm doing the same here. Assume this is the 616 incarnations of both characters, both of them having started as superheroes around the same time and now mutually taking a break from 'the life' to attend UCLA, where they're roommates. Both are also out and comfortable with their sexualities, Bobby's gay and Johnny's bi. (Don't believe me, ask Daken). Also, it's the current year because Johnny demanded the technology to take selfies.
> 
> Okay I think that's all you need to know. Ready. Set. Spank. Or, I dunno. Read.

It was all Johnny's fault.

Bobby felt very strongly about being clear on that front. Here he was, just an innocent young gay boy trying to come of age and find himself while attending UCLA like a normal person who occasionally misses an exam to go save the world. Just living his life, you know? Be an average Joe.

But was this enough for his exhibitionist supermodel slash superhero slash best friend slash roommate slash occasional fuck buddy and possible soulmate? Nope. Fucker had to go and make it weird. And they weren't even a full month into the school year.

It had started with an innocent enough request. Well. Okay. More accurately:

It had started with what would have been an innocent request were Johnny Storm capable of doing anything that shared a zip code with the word innocent.

"Hey Bobbo, can you come help me with a thing?"

Bobby squinted into the bowl of mush that had been Cinnamon Toast Crunch before it lost its war with milk.

"Depends. Is the thing you need help with me standing on your desk and angling your phone to catch you at just the right angle and lighting for your latest Grindr pics? 'Cuz hard pass."

Silence reigned throughout the luxurious two bedroom apartment they shared off campus, courtesy of Johnny's sister and brother-in-law and whatever weird gizmo they’d invented last. Bobby’s brain had broken the last time they had Sue over and she tried to explain it. Then a tentative "No?" rang out rather unconvincingly from the direction of Johnny's room.

Bobby sighed and slurped another spoonful. This time with extra slurp for that added obnoxious factor, making it clear that he was a very busy person doing very busy things and how dare Johnny interrupt him for this. "Hard. Pass."

"What's the matter? Jealous?" Johnny called out, rallying quickly enough. He’d always been one to brag about his recovery speeds. Bobby snorted.

"Nope, just losing all sensation in my picture-taking finger. Don't you already have images showcasing every possible angle of you in every possible light by now?"

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying," Johnny yelled loftily, apparently just as disinclined as Bobby to get up and walk the twenty feet required to have this conversation face to face. Instead of y'know, shouting at each other from two rooms away. Bobby was slowly starting to form a picture of why all their neighbors seemed to hate them.

"I'm saying - ," Bobby started to retort, dragging the syllables out for emphasis. Johnny interrupted two words in. Dammit. He hated when his Tactiques De la Dramatique backfired.

"Whatever, I just aged two whole decades waiting for you to remember how to talk. Look, can you just come help me? Yes yes blah blah Johnny takes lots of pictures, he has narcissistic personality issues, his tendency to stop in the middle of battling Galactus to take a selfie implies troubling things about his priorities oh my god you sound like my therapist, stop being boring. I don't have any pictures wearing this and I can't get a good angle of my ass and you know that's my best feature so I'm not going to stop bugging you til you help me."

He was two stanzas into a rousing rendition of Ke$ha's 'Tik Tok' before Bobby caved and slammed his spoon into his bowl in a fit of high dudgeon it was criminal no one was around to witness. Or for Johnny to bother instead. What the hell could he possibly be wearing that he didn't already have a full Playgirl spread's worth of photographs of already? Bobby was quite certain he'd seen his roommate in every thong, jockstrap, Speedo, pair of boxers, boxer briefs, brief briefs, jeans, suits....

Look, Johnny liked clothes and liked showing off how he looked both in clothes and out of them and had zero problem using the space between Bobby and the television as his impromptu catwalk. So as he tromped down the hall and into the blond firestarter’s room, the X-Man was fully prepared to cite the exact date and time of the last occasion Johnny had shown off whatever he was currently wearing while demanding Bobby help capture him in his best light.

Whatever he'd been about to say tripped off his tongue then, and he froze at the sight before him. Which was always embarrassing when you were the Iceman. He was lucky Johnny wasn't a telepath able to pick that pun out of his brain and give him grief for it. But even sans mind-reading, Johnny was too busy contorting himself in front of the mirror in an arched, half-turned pose that showed off all his best curves and angles as well as the fact that he possessed a skeleton that wasn't all that committed to doing its job. And what he was wearing, practically painted onto his skin? Well, that was definitely new.

The blue boots hugging his calves and ending just below his knees were nothing unfamiliar, but the sheer skin-hugging pants clinging to his thighs and ass and accentuating his junk were definitely not part of his normal costume. Neither was the complicated arrangement of straps that did nothing to cover his otherwise bare torso and instead were pretty clearly designed to just show off his chest and pecs and nipples and arms and Bobby forgot what he was saying. Oh Right. Weird wardrobe. It was one of those leather harness thingies like you'd see in a sex shop except like the painted on pants and boots and the fingerless gloves adorning his hands, there wasn't an ounce of black to be seen on the blonde's apparel. Instead it was all in his usual, signature sky-blue.

"You like?" Johnny beamed over his shoulder at Bobby, gyrating his muscled back from left to right and back again as he twisted and turned to give Bobby the best views. "I'm a leather daddy!"

"That's not leather," Bobby pointed out, thanking the ever-reliable gods of snark for the swift return of his power of speech. Johnny pouted.

"Okay fine, but latex daddy doesn't have the same ring to it," he said. He cocked his head to the side contemplatively, his blond locks cascading down over his forehead in a way that definitely had to be practiced. "I think it’s latex. Or rubber? I don't know. Who cares, point is I look hot, huh?"

"I mean. It's a look," Bobby said at last. It seemed the safest possible response to a situation he still needed to fully assess. Before, y’know, making any decisions as to how dangerous feeding Johnny's ego in this particular moment might be. "Didn't realize it came in blue."

"Don't be such a peasant, Drake," Johnny rolled his eyes. "You can get anything custom ordered."

"Don't be such a snob, Storm. Some of us shop retail," Bobby retorted. "So. Uh. Just out of curiosity, what prompted this particular order?"

Johnny shrugged, a rippling motion that made the tanned shoulders and back muscles as framed by his harness do interesting things to Bobby's nether regions. He shifted his gym shorts discreetly. It wasn't as though Johnny weren't already aware of the effect he was capable of having on him, but he didn't really need further ammunition. "Lots of dudes are into that BDSM stuff these days, so figured I'd give myself some street cred to work with."

It was Bobby's turn to roll his eyes. Of course that made perfect sense in Johnny-land. "I'm pretty sure more than a costume change is required for that kind of thing, dude. Do you even know what BDSM stands for?"

"Umm. Butt. Dimples. Sexy Me?" Johnny guessed, glancing sidelong over his shoulder and batting his eyes above said dimples on full display. "I mean okay, so no, but I bet you don't know either!"

"Uh yeah I do, it's bondage, domination and...," Bobby trailed off, frowning as he hunted for the last two. "Okay so no, but I at least know the first two, and that's more than you _and_ I'm not the one who went and ordered a custom leather daddy wannabe suit that's gonna get no play whatsoever because the chances of anyone taking you seriously are zilch."

"Screw you man, I could totally be a dom top," Johnny said. "And bondage, that's like tying people up and stuff, right? I could do that."

"Yes but could you do it without them bursting into hysterical giggles the first time you tried to spank them or flog them or whatever it is dudes do after that? Because I'm guessing that's pretty critical to the whole thing."

"So you think I just look ridiculous like this? All this does is make you want to giggle hysterically?" Johnny asked, turning to face him fully for the first time since he entered the room.

He crossed his arms over his chest, or more accurately just under the blue strap that ran across the width of his torso. The motion made his pecs swell and jut out over the shelf of his arms. His biceps bunched up impressively, the flat planes of his washboard abs appeared carved from marble, the V-shaped lines of his Adonis belt vanished beneath the top of the tight, form-fitting blue pants that showed off every inch of his densely muscled thighs and calves. There was no pout nor any of Johnny's usual devil-may-care mannerisms to be found on his movie star features. Instead his mouth was set sternly and one blond eyebrow arched imperiously over piercing blue eyes.

The end result was far from his usual persona but it definitely wasn't ridiculous, Bobby was forced to admit. Internally though. Because he was not about to admit that when Johnny's Ego was very much present and looking to make a point. So instead he changed the subject.

"I think I'm not a dude with BDSM listed in my profiles," Bobby countered smoothly, pivoting the conversation like a practiced skier diverting his course to easier slopes. "What's got you interested in them all of a sudden anyway? Even you couldn't have gone through all the others by now."

His roommate shrugged again, dropping his pose and the aura he'd conjured with a simple drop of his arms, leaving them to swing casually by his sides. Bobby breathed just a tiny bit easier. Very, very minimal alterations to his respiratory patterns. Practically negligible, hardly worth noting.

"Dunno," Johnny said at last. "Just seemed interesting. Something new, you know? Life's an adventure, if you don't like the game you're playing, change it to another one, you follow me?"

"Not even a little bit. We have got to work on your metaphors, dude," Bobby sighed. "So, loosely translating....you were bored with your sex life and instead of waiting til forty five to have a mid life crisis about it because you've already packed thirty years worth of sex into one tenth of that, you've decided to go ahead and have it now and pinged on the first unfamiliar thing to catch your eye?"

Johnny nodded. "See? You get it. Wait. Hang on. You slut shaming me, bro?"

"Only if I'm slut shaming myself too," Bobby said defensively. "I do almost as well as you in that department."

Johnny scoffed. "As if."

"That really doesn't work when you're wearing that," Bobby pointed out. "And speaking of, to get back to the subject at hand, okay, so you're bored with vanilla and want to try some kink. I can get that. But did you ever think maybe that might be something to explore or do a little research into before you go stocking up on the toys and clothes?"

"Dude, I know I sound like an asshole when I say this, but I'm rich remember? Supermodel, plus Reed and Sue's inventions money, plus my endorsement deals....it's not like it broke my bank to go on a little spending spree."

"Wait, so there's more than just this?" Bobby asked before his brain could think better of it. "And must be nice to get paid for saving the world instead of doing it for free."

"Okay a) endorsement deals aren't wages, and b) you totally deserve anything I have and I don't need it obviously and I'm happy to share it with you but you're the one who's always like no, no and then we fight about it which sucks except for the makeup sex which rocks. And speaking of things that rock, you'd totally rock something like this too, just FYI, if you'd let me get it for you too," Johnny said, tilting his head again in that contemplative way of his - this time peering at Bobby as though through the lens of a camera, picturing him in similar garb.

(The Iceman totally didn't blush. But only because he was the Iceman and had enough control over his own body temperature to nip that shit in the bud).

"Mmmhmm," was all Bobby said. He schooled his features into patient amusement, an easy default he could work comfortably with. "Well, flattering as that is, I haven't put a whole lot of time or thought into whether BDSM would be anything I'd be interested in at all in the first place. And unlike you, I like to do a little research before I go making impulse buys."

"They stop being impulse buys the second you do research first, dumbass," Johnny sighed. "And I'm starting to think you're being evasive. You telling me you can't decide right here and now whether or not alllll of this, holds any appeal for you or not?"

He sauntered forward, closing the gap between them by a pace or two, drawing that same unexpected aura around him again like a cloak. A little better prepared for it now, Bobby recognized the act for what it was - he'd seen Johnny do something similar countless times before, transitioning from laidback Johnny his best friend to Johnny Storm, supermodel and idol of millions between one blink and the next.

Course, recognizing it as such didn't mean it wasn't effective. Just meant Bobby had enough prep time to be able to stand his ground, maintaining his own facade of that patiently amused and disaffected air. He had way more of a secret identity than Johnny did, so anything Johnny could pull off here, he definitely had the chops to pull off as well. Two could play at this game.

This probably would be around the time Kitty and Rogue would be all 'ugh, stupid testosterone driven competition obsessed men' before marching off in disdain, Bobby reflected. He shrugged internally. Oh well.

"You're very pretty, Johnny," he said coolly (hah!), with zero inflection. "Is that what you needed to hear?"

"Nope," Johnny said, inching forward one step at a time, dragging out the 'p' with a popping sound. Bobby positioned himself with his back to the doorframe and leaned against it, cutting off his own potential retreat deliberately. "I need to hear you say that you've got zero interest in bondage and domination. That me wearing this, talking about tying you up, dominating you, all that does nothing for you. Nada. Zilch. You say that, I'll drop this right here, right now."

He cast a slow, heated (ugh) glance of his own down the length of Bobby's bare chest, the slightly smaller boy wearing nothing but his gym shorts and socks this early in the morning. There were only a couple inches of height between them, but Johnny's elevated attitude seemed to add a few more as he stared smugly down at the erection visibly tenting Bobby's shorts.

But then again, Bobby had been withstanding intimidation tactics from the likes of Magneto since he was fifteen. Like, okay, not this kind of intimidation tactic, definitely - eww bad thoughts bad thoughts gross gross gross. The point being, he internally monologued dramatically, he'd always hated losing at chicken. Even if this particular variation was new, the game was always the same right?

So taking an even breath, he crossed his own arms over his chest, deliberately emphasizing his own physique and watching as Johnny's eyes drifted to his pecs almost as if against their will. Hey, he looked like a freaking classical Greek statue in his ice form, which was basically just his human form made see through, Bobby thought smugly. He knew he looked good. Taking a step forward himself, he ate away at the space between their bare chests until the distance between them was little enough their height differences were negligible when he leaned in to breathe frosty air right at his roommate's ear. Chuckling softly when Johnny shuddered, he said:

"Okay, I admit it. I see some appeal. But what makes you think just because you're wearing that, I'm the one I'm picturing getting tied up? I don't see anything here that makes me think you wouldn't be just as pretty wearing that if a few ropes were added to the picture."

He let a hand lightly trace its way up Johnny's abs, enjoying the sudden intake of breath he could both hear from the taller boy and see from the way his stomach muscles suddenly contracted. Bobby teased a path up and over Johnny's crossed arms to the blue harness framing his pecs. He hooked a finger underneath it, between the material and the tan skin beneath, yanking forward just enough to make Johnny jolt and need to catch himself. Even with his own arms still crossed, the rapid rise and fall of the blonde's chest was clearly visible.

"Tell you what," Bobby said, it no longer requiring any effort at all on his part to maintain that air of amusement. "You said you could see me rocking something like this, and I like doing a little research before my purchases, so why don't we compromise? I'll try this on instead, and you tell me if you think I'd get enough use out of it to make it worth it. How's that sound?"

"Don't read too much into my interest, Drake," Johnny said. Fucker was doing an okay job at maintaining his own voice, too. Dammit. He wasn't making this easy. Even if Bobby was no longer entirely sure just what the hell 'this' was.

"I've been despairing of ever getting you to put a little effort into your appearance for years. I'm just excited you finally seem to care enough to put on a show. I'm like a proud papa here. Why, you could even call me Daddy."

Bobby laughed and pushed away from Johnny, shoving him to flop backwards on his bed in the process. "You keep trying it, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before you can pull that one off, Torch. See, this would be the hysterical giggling I said was inevitable. But tell you what. You've got my interest, I'll admit that. Methinks we might have a bit of a challenge brewing here. You interested?"

Johnny propped his arms behind his head like a pillow and used his long legs to propel him further up and back on the bed, getting comfortable before cocking an eyebrow. "Always, Otterpop. Hit me. Or should I say spank me?"

"Only if you beg," Bobby fired back. He propped his own foot up on the bed, between Johnny's splayed out legs, and leaned in. "So here's the situation as I see it. Apparently, you and your squirrel-brained attention span and endless internet profiles have stumbled across something that intrigues us both. Neither of us is all that familiar with that something. You at least seem a little uncertain as to which side of that something you want to be on - "

"I never said that," Johnny interrupted mildly. He jabbed a finger into the air, waving it around. "Facts not in evidence, your Honor!"

"Shut up or I will spank you," Bobby said calmly. His roommate's Adam's apple suddenly bobbed up and down, his lips pursing infinitesimally. His infamous baby blue eyes had a sudden, glazed sheen for a moment before rapidly blinking blond eyelashes dispelled it.

"And that'd be the evidence right there." He pointed his own finger down at Johnny who only rolled said eyes and yawned.

"So as I was saying,” Bobby continued. “It looks like we know just enough to know we're interested, but not enough about what it is we're interested in. And I for one am not interested in diving into something I know nothing about. So I propose a challenge. We each do our research. We find what we like. We find what we don't like. And well, if we find that one of us likes doing the tying while the other one likes being the tied up, that answers that easily enough."

"And if both of us decide that uncontrollable-facial-ticks-that-shouldn't-be read-into aside, we both like the idea of doing the tying, as you put it," Johnny countered loftily. "What then?"

Bobby shrugged. "Well, then it seems like it would just come down to which of us does a better job of convincing the other that we’re a more natural fit for that outfit you’re wearing. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm." Johnny pondered it while Bobby pondered the hardness pressed up against the sheer blue material of the blonde's pants. "Rules to this particular engagement?"

"Nothing happens without the other's full understanding of what they're agreeing to," Bobby said after careful consideration. "We come across something in our research we decide is a firm no, it goes on a list and that list is sacred. There's no badgering the other about anything on it or trying to convince them later or in a more vulnerable state. Anything not on the list is fair game for making a case for it. Nothing unsafe, nobody outside of this room brought in on our little arrangement without both agreeing before hand, no using anything we discover about each other's likes or dislikes to make each other feel bad when we're not playing. And above all, one of us says stop to anything for any reason, we stop. Other than that though, it’s open season."

"Sounds reasonable," Johnny mused. "And when does this challenge of yours end?"

Bobby grinned. "When one of us has the other so satisfied by the sub side of things they stop trying to make a play for being the dom. What other possible end could there be?"

"You talk a good game," Johnny announced then, sitting up on his bed and extending a hand. "Challenge accepted, Drake. I’d say may the most dominant one win, but that would imply there’s any real question of who that’ll be."

He added a smolder to that once Bobby took his grip - quite literally if you counted the way he flared just enough heat through his fingers to make Bobby’s palm sweat and his pulse elevate to match the temperature. Plus the arch of Johnny’s brow, the set of his jaw, the ever so slight uptick to the edges of his lips that added just a hint of cocky bad boy to the mix - it was a practiced attempt at seduction. Again quite literally, considering Bobby had seen Johnny hone that very expression in the mirror before magazine shoots.

Course, practice makes perfect, or so the saying goes, and a backstage view of the rehearsals didn’t make the actual performance any less arresting. It probably could have done a damn good job of melting most people into a puddle of spineless goo, but a guy who spent half his time made of ice wasn’t exactly most people.

“Cute,” was all Bobby said, making it a bored drawl that gradually shifted into a small smirk of his own. He dropped the temperature around his own fingers, holding firm until he heard a slight hiss escape through a crack in Johnny’s smile. “Still not as cute as you’d look all tied up on your knees, those hot blowjob lips of yours stretched around one of those ball gag things while you make little whimpering sounds to try and tell me how hungry your ass is for its favorite cock.”

 _Direct hit_ , he crowed victoriously, smirk widening as Johnny’s eyelashes fluttered wildly, that glazed sheen icing over his baby blues once more. Determined to leave on a high, or okay, fine, to have the last word if you wanted to get technical about it, he dropped Johnny’s hand and headed for the door before the blond had a second to gather himself and return fire.

“Just something to keep in mind,” Bobby called back over his shoulder, pausing juuuuust long enough on the other side of the doorway to duck his head back into the room and wink. “I know it’ll be in mine.”

With that parting shot, he hastened down the hallway towards his own room. He had some research to do. Definitely not a thought he’d ever expected to pair with excitement. Though Hank had always said it was just a matter of finding the right subject matter…

First things first though.

He really really needed to jerk off.


End file.
